There's no place I would rather be ...
"There's no place I would rather be than right here, right now, right at this point on the trail."
This is the best peices of ultrarunning advice anyone has ever given me ... basically this means that when the mental or physical gavel slams down on top of you, the best way to crawl out from underneath it is to look around and be grateful for the moment at hand.
The other day Zippy and I were out breaking trail ... half running, half most holing through knee deep snow ... when that great thought washed through my entire being ... and it didn't just have to do with the run, but life in general.
"There's no place in life I would rather be than right here, right now, right at this point in existence."
I had great views of the Tetons washed in afternoon light and ice clung like sea urchins to my eyelashes and the tufts of hair sticking out from underneath my balaclava -- the temperatures were well below zero.
This past week was everything I imagined and hoped for when I turned in my notice at the Alaska Star, packed up my cabin and drove 3,000 miles south. I taught kiddos to ski for a couple of days, taught a couple of friends how to tele ski, volunteered as a ski buddy for the adaptive ski program and skied on my own for two full days ... one of which was in the middle of the biggest storm of the season, which meant powder shots on every run ... not to mention the running, climbing at the rock gym, babysitting and freelance editing. I can definitively say: life is good.
New Year's Eve turned out to be one of my best ever. On a whim I signed up for the torch light parade at Jackson Hole Moutain Resort. Little did I know what I was getting into. Just after sunset, 100 or so of us ski school instructors gathered at the base of the mountain to load onto the chairlifts. All the seasoned ski schoolers knew the routine, and bottles came out from underneath people's jackets in troves; as did the fireworks. As we rode up in the dark, colorful, sparkling displays shot every which way and I began to wonder about how exactly I would get down the icy mountain holding fire in both hands -- given my increasingly tipsy state. Up on top, as we weighted for our cue to light up the torches and ski down, the party just got bigger. It reminded me of a soccer game in Guatemala -- totally insane, totally insanely fun, that is. I'm happy to report that I made it to the bottom unscathed. I just kept thinking, "Don't fall, don't get burned, and for heavens sake, stay in the tracks of the person in front of me." I remember being slightly suprised when I realized there were a bunch of people cheering all around me, meaning I was back at the base of the mountain. Good times, indeed!
This is the best peices of ultrarunning advice anyone has ever given me ... basically this means that when the mental or physical gavel slams down on top of you, the best way to crawl out from underneath it is to look around and be grateful for the moment at hand.
The other day Zippy and I were out breaking trail ... half running, half most holing through knee deep snow ... when that great thought washed through my entire being ... and it didn't just have to do with the run, but life in general.
"There's no place in life I would rather be than right here, right now, right at this point in existence."
I had great views of the Tetons washed in afternoon light and ice clung like sea urchins to my eyelashes and the tufts of hair sticking out from underneath my balaclava -- the temperatures were well below zero.
This past week was everything I imagined and hoped for when I turned in my notice at the Alaska Star, packed up my cabin and drove 3,000 miles south. I taught kiddos to ski for a couple of days, taught a couple of friends how to tele ski, volunteered as a ski buddy for the adaptive ski program and skied on my own for two full days ... one of which was in the middle of the biggest storm of the season, which meant powder shots on every run ... not to mention the running, climbing at the rock gym, babysitting and freelance editing. I can definitively say: life is good.
New Year's Eve turned out to be one of my best ever. On a whim I signed up for the torch light parade at Jackson Hole Moutain Resort. Little did I know what I was getting into. Just after sunset, 100 or so of us ski school instructors gathered at the base of the mountain to load onto the chairlifts. All the seasoned ski schoolers knew the routine, and bottles came out from underneath people's jackets in troves; as did the fireworks. As we rode up in the dark, colorful, sparkling displays shot every which way and I began to wonder about how exactly I would get down the icy mountain holding fire in both hands -- given my increasingly tipsy state. Up on top, as we weighted for our cue to light up the torches and ski down, the party just got bigger. It reminded me of a soccer game in Guatemala -- totally insane, totally insanely fun, that is. I'm happy to report that I made it to the bottom unscathed. I just kept thinking, "Don't fall, don't get burned, and for heavens sake, stay in the tracks of the person in front of me." I remember being slightly suprised when I realized there were a bunch of people cheering all around me, meaning I was back at the base of the mountain. Good times, indeed!
Labels: Jackson Hole, musings, New Years, ramblings, running, Skiing, Torchlight Parade, Zippy
posted by Amy | 11:21 AM
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